Deathmarch

Started: 2004-03-14 19:04:00

Submitted: 2004-03-15 20:53:50

Visibility: World-readable

I'm writing this changelog longhand on engineering paper while sitting
at Noodles & Company, waiting for my food. (I have number 20 on my
table.) Gem might approve of my seat; I have my back to the wall with a
commanding view of the dining area.

Gem gets back sometime tonight after an epic drive from College Place
with my mother, Bethany, and Willy. The little amount of contact I've
had with her so far indicates she's enjoying herself. (She was a little
concerned that my mother would attempt to talk for the entire eighteen
hour drive.)

Taking advantage of the fact that I didn't have anything to do in church
yesterday, and Gem's absence, I decided to take an epic hike up Bear
Peak, South Boulder Peak, and Green Mountain, all in one hike. (Some
loyal readers, and a number of non-loyal readers, will recognize Green
Mountain as the destination of the deathmarch we celebrated my
twenty-second birthday with.)

I slept in, took my time eating breakfast and assembling my stuff, and
realized that I wasn't going to be able to fit all of the water I wanted
to take. (I've picked up a healthy paranoia of dehydration; I didn't
want to go without six liters of water. I ended up drinking four.) I
dropped by my parents' house to borrow my father's glorious Kelty
soft-frame daypack, which had sufficient room for my six liters of
water, various layers of clothing, lunch, and my various electronics. It
was a little on the heavy side.

I drove to NCAR and set out on the trail at 1310. My first objective was
Bear Peak. All was well for half an hour, until the trail started going
up and I started gasping for breath. I kept on going, becoming more and
more aware how out of shape I truly am. (The last time I assented Bear
Peak was Labor Day 2000, when I was fairly close to the most in shape
I've been in my life.) From the top of Fern Canyon, the trail turned
south along the steep north ridge: up two meters for every three meters
forward. To make matters worse, no snow had melted.

I finally made it to the top at 1520. Exhausted, I signed the register,
ate lunch, replenished my twin Nalgene bottles, and contemplated my next
move. It didn't take long to decide to abort; I had barely enough energy
to get back down. I didn't want to descend the steep and slippery north
ridge, so I went down the west ridge into Bear Canyon, which was much
longer but far gentler and more exposed, allowing the snow to melt.

I made it back to Yoda at 1830 entirely exhausted. I drove home and
prepared to drop from exhaustion, but I delayed long enough to arrange
for evening plans with Bitscape and scottgalvin.com. (Jenny was out of
town as well, giving us the opportunity to stage a "boys night out.")

I rendezvoused (a little late) to see Mystic River, back in
theaters to capitalize on its Oscar nominations. The movie was
excellent; I enjoyed the crime drama and guessing what the clues meant
and who was hiding what.

(A Land Rover with California tags just pulled up in the parking space
out the window, driven by a sophomore girl in sweat pants with two
female friends. I almost feel old surrounded by college students (whose
ranks I only recently departed); at least I'm not nauseatingly flouting my
yuppie parents' affluence.)

Scott, Bitscape, and I sat in the theater and talked for an hour after
the movie ended. I finally managed to escape and made it to bed at 0200,
the same time as Saturday morning. There's more to the story, today and
Friday, but my hand is complaining from writing non-stop for the past
thirty-five minutes, and Gem might be home soon.